The Rebel Page 30

  The stairs were agonizing, but as Jane descended—and as the curious gazes of a few guests who were mingling in the entrance hall fell on her—she found herself growing totally numb. When she and Alexandra finally reached the bottom, Jane was certain that no one had even recognized her, for the faces continued to be friendly, even admiring.

  “The worst is over,” Lady Spencer whispered softly, touching her on the elbow and nodding toward the parlor and where a small crowd of people were blocking the doorway, waiting to enter. “Shall we go in there and stir the pot a little?”

  As the two women started past the front door, though, Jane cringed as a late arriving guest entered and stepped into their path. Sir Robert Musgrave had no difficulty recognizing her.

  “Miss Jane, I cannot believe my eyes.”

  The hush that fell over the bystanders was immediately followed by urgent whispers. She could almost feel the news rippling through the parlors and the Hall.

  “Sir Robert.” She nodded politely, trying to mask all traces of hostility in her voice and hide, as well, the unnerving sense that every eye was now on her.

  “Miss Jane, I must say you look absolutely stunning.” He stepped so near her that his presence encroached upon the very air she needed to breathe. He lifted her hand to his lips, but his smile was cold. “I truly approve of your choice of hair style…and this dress! You are a marvel, I must say. The style is elegant and the fit is fashionably provocative…within the bounds of propriety, of course.” He lowered his voice. “So very much like yourself.”

  Jane tried to show nothing under his predatory gaze.

  “I have to admit, though, I find myself speechless at seeing you attired in something other than that dreaded black.”

  “I find you are not completely speechless, sir,” Jane replied matter-of-factly. “Now if you will forgive us, Lady Spencer and I need to speak with her daughter.”

  “But I cannot let you simply disappear, Miss Jane. Not until you promise me the pleasure of a dance.”

  “I fear, sir, that I can not promise any such thing.” She looked impatiently past him. “Please forgive us, but I believe I just saw Miss Spencer pass by the parlor door.”

  Stepping around him, Jane nodded politely to her companion, and the two made their way toward the parlor.

  “You have wonderful poise.” Alexandra whispered a moment later, as Jane sailed past the open stares of the guests with her head held high. “I am very proud to know you.”

  These last words almost pierced Jane’s emotional armor, but she fought it off. The throng of people by the door to the parlor parted, and she followed Alexandra into the crowded but now silent room.

  The canvases she and Lady Spencer had chosen earlier had been arranged on temporary wooden easels in various places around the room. Now, however, all gazes were fixed on her and not on the paintings that had drawn them into the parlor initially. Jane searched the expressions of the strangers and those she knew. She saw Henry standing beside Clara by the window. Her sister’s gaze fell to the carpeted floor, but the minister sent Jane an encouraging nod. She couldn’t worry about Clara’s reaction to her arrival now. Frances beamed at her enthusiastically from across the parlor. Next to her, Jane found the one she’d been looking for all along. Her heart pounded, and her stomach danced at the sight of him.

  “I cannot be more pleased with this warm reception…” Lady Spencer began, speaking in a clear voice to everyone in the room. Jane found she had some difficulty focusing on her friend’s words, for only Nicholas existed now.

  He was impeccably dressed, but Jane thought he looked tired. He held a glass of port in one hand while he casually leaned a shoulder against the mantel of the hearth. Even from this distance, Jane could see the way his eyes studied every inch of her body from the tip of her shoes to her hair. His attention was the warmth she’d lacked. She waited until his eyes finally met hers, but she started at the hurt she saw in them. Hurt she knew she herself had caused.

  “…and so the treasure lies among you.” Lady Spencer took Jane’s hand. “Miss Purefoy…yes, indeed…Miss Jane Purefoy is the artist of these splendid works which we have all being viewing so appreciatively.”

  There was a very brief moment of silence, and then someone started clapping from somewhere to her left. That one person’s applause quickly spread, and Jane watched with utter astonishment as every person in the room and around the door joined in. As she turned to look at Alexandra, a loud conversational buzz erupted around her.

  Jane had no idea what to say or how to act. This positive reception of her work was totally unexpected. But what it was even more astounding was the way the guests immediately approached her with congratulatory comments and questions about her style and her subject matter.

  Trying to answer whatever she could to the best of her abilities, Jane searched for Alexandra at her side and found the older woman wearing a proud smile and standing away from her by a series of paintings she particularly liked. She glanced again in Nicholas’s direction and found him raising his glass in a toast to her.

  “And what is this all about?” Lady Purefoy’s cheerfully complaining tone rang out from the hallway. “What kind of a ball is this where everyone deserts the dance floor and crowds into parlors? Is there card playing going on in here? Come now…”

  A few guests shifted around and others followed the hostess in.

  “Oh yes,” she said. “Lady Spencer’s special arrangement. I’d almost forgotten. What have we here?”

  Catherine waved the fan she was holding and peered about in surprise.

  “Oh, my! Lady Spencer, are you in there?”

  “I’m here.”

  The crowd around Jane parted and Catherine Purefoy became slightly paler when she saw her older daughter standing at the center of the crowd.

  “Why, Jane! Whatever are you…?” She quickly tried to recover her composure and looked at her houseguest. “Lady Spencer…I thought when you said you wanted to use this room…I never imagined that you meant…”

  The hostess waved her hand vaguely at the paintings and failed miserably at hiding her confusion. She shook her head and tried to begin again.

  “Ah, but Jane…dear…I did not know you had returned!” she finally managed to get out.

  Jane took a step toward her mother to explain, but the magistrate’s voice by the door raised the hair on her neck.

  “Were you away, Miss Jane?”

  There was no reason for this loud and public question, and she so wished to tell Musgrave exactly that, but her mother’s answer cut off the opportunity.

  “Indeed, Sir Robert. Jane has been away for three days.” Catherine smiled in embarrassment at the group. “This was the reason for my surprise…my delight in seeing her. I had no idea she was planning to return in time for the ball. I mean, it is always a joy for a mother to see her children, but since I did not know where she’d gone, and I received no message about her time of return…”

  A murmur of disapproval rolled through the room, though Jane had no clear idea who it was aimed at. She reached for her mother’s hand and looked beseechingly at Clara, hoping for her sister’s assistance with taking control of this situation. But Clara’s flushed face was turned toward Henry Adams, and she was whispering something into his ear.

  “And I notice that you have sustained an injury, Miss Jane.” Musgrave was cutting through people and coming closer. “Tell us, is it your knee or your ankle?”

  “You were not unwell when you left, Jane,” Lady Purefoy asserted pointedly.

  “And you are such a fine rider that I doubt you would have fallen from your horse. Now, you wouldn’t have sustained such an injury jumping from the roof of a building, would you?”

  He was now standing before her. His gray eyes watched her every move.

  “I have been long accustomed to taking the stairs, sir,” she put in acidly, hoping to cut short this very public inquiry.

  “And the cause and nature of the injury?” />
  “That is none of your concern, sir,” she answered curtly. “I should think someone with your responsibilities would hardly have the time to concern himself in such an ongoing fashion with my foolish mishaps.”

  The magistrate opened his mouth to respond, but Jane saw his eyes narrow and focus on someone behind her.

  “If you will forgive us, Sir Robert, Lady Purefoy mentioned that this is, after all, a ball. And I have been waiting too long already for this dance that Miss Jane promised me earlier.”

  The heat that rushed through her when she heard Nicholas’s voice behind her buoyed her immediately. Her cheeks burned and her eyes misted over with affection when she turned and met his intense blue gaze. The tongues were wagging again, but Jane didn’t care as she slipped her hand through his proffered arm.

  “Are you ready?” he whispered softly as they started toward the door.

  “More than you know. More than I ever was.” He cupped her hand on his arm, and she moved closer. He was trying to give her support for her ankle, but she wanted to melt against him, kiss him, explain to him everything that had happened, and tell him what a lost soul she was without him.

  Jane was surprised to see her father standing just inside the doorway as they approached. She immediately bristled, expecting to see his disapproval. But his look was reflective, mysterious.

  “If you have just a few moments, Miss Jane, there are a few questions that I still need to ask.”

  From the steely frown on Nicholas’s face, she could tell that Musgrave’s persistence angered him as much as it did her. He pressed her hand reassuringly, though, and turned without letting her go.

  “Really, Musgrave. Can this not wait?” Nicholas asked impatiently.

  “I am afraid not, Sir Nicholas. My duty as magistrate, acting on behalf of the Cr…”

  “Are you here as a guest or as a government official?” Nicholas’s sharp tone and question silenced the crowd and a path opened between the two men.

  “I fear my duty must always supersede....”

  “That is too bad for you, sir. However, the rest of us are not afflicted with the same burden. Would you mind allowing us to enjoy our host’s amusements and hospitality?”

  “I would if I could, sir.” The magistrate stepped toward them. “I assure you that there is no need for a private conversation…unless you need the opportunity to think of an excuse for this good lady’s injury.”

  The baronet’s words were cold and measured. “This is not the time, sir. But I assure you, you and I will have a private discussion in the very near future.”

  “What was it the last time?” Musgrave asked, ignoring Nicholas’s threat. “You struck her face with the stable door, was it not?” He laughed without mirth. “Perhaps this time we should just say you pushed her from her horse, thereby causing the pronounced limp she suffers from tonight.”

  “Sir Robert,” Lady Purefoy gasped. “What are you saying?”

  Nicholas’s hands dropped to his side, his tone icy. “Be clear, sir. Are you accusing me?”

  “No, of course not!” He laughed again, though no one else seemed amused by the confrontation. “Surrounded by all this magnificent art, I am simply trying to be creative.”

  Jane could not take any more of this. She understood the threat in Musgrave’s words, and she had no wish for Nicholas to fall victim to it. She pressed a hand on his arm and faced her foe.

  “I believe this unpleasantness is entirely unnecessary.” She looked around at the room full of people. “If you have official questions to ask me, sir, why not proceed in private. Surely there is no reason to deprive my parents’ guest of their evening of enjoyment.”

  “But is this not as much entertainment as any promenade or dinner or bottle of port, for that matter?”

  “For you, perhaps,” she replied. “But not for anyone else.”

  “Have you been drinking heavily, Sir Robert?” Lady Purefoy asked hopefully.

  “No, madam.” He turned his back on the hostess. “And I happen to disagree, Miss Jane. How often will these good people have an opportunity to witness the king’s magistrate acting to solve a crime?”

  “Very well, sir,” she responded coldly. “Ask your questions and be done with it.”

  “As you wish.” He bowed with a mocking flourish. “Would you enlighten us as to where you have been for the past three days?”

  “I was visiting a friend.”

  “Did you take a carriage or ride your fine horse?”

  “As is my custom, I rode my horse.”

  “And does this friend live anywhere near the village of Banteer?”

  She paused, considering her answer. “I believe it would be safe to say my friend lives in that general direction.”

  “What did you do while you were staying there?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing unusual. We visited.”

  “And what were you doing last night?”

  “This is becoming quite tedious, Sir Robert.”

  “Did you go to Banteer last night?” He walked toward her.

  “I cannot think of any reason why I would be in Banteer, sir....”

  “But you were seen there, last night, Miss Jane.”

  “Was I?” She met the man’s accusatory gaze at the same time that she felt the brush of Nicholas’s arm against her own. His strength flowed into her, and she found comfort in his presence beside her. “I am certain whoever imagined seeing me must be mistaken.”

  “Do you have anyone who could confirm your claim?”

  She hesitated, unwilling to use Jenny’s name. As far as the magistrate was concerned, there could be no connection between the two women. Even if Jane were to escape this time, Conor’s aunt would know no peace for as long as the magistrate held power.

  “Yes.”

  Henry Adams’s voice drew everyone’s attention to him. A murmur again rippled though the crowd.

  “I was with Miss Jane last evening.”

  Jane felt Nicholas stiffen beside her.

  “Parson,” Musgrave started, surprise evident in his voice. “Are you saying you visited Miss Jane at her unnamed friend’s house last evening?”

  “No.” The minister moved to Jane’s side, and she felt suddenly dwarfed between Nicholas and Henry. “No. What I am saying is that Miss Jane has been a guest at the parsonage in Ballyclough for the past three days. This unnamed friend she speaks of is I, Henry Adams.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “I do not know what all this secrecy is about. But I know she wasn’t there, Nicholas. I went after her,” Lady Spencer whispered anxiously. “I know she wasn’t staying with Parson Adams.”

  Nicholas had managed to stand by Jane as notes of scandal mingled with those of Purcell and Handel. He’d stayed beside her as Adams had responded to Musgrave’s question about the whereabouts of Jane’s horse last night, and listened with appreciation as the parson had verbally attacked the magistrate about the lack of order in the district—evidenced by the fact that horses routinely disappear from stables at night, with only some of them reappearing a few days later. If the horse that was seen was indeed Jane’s—though it was doubtful, he asserted—this was obviously what had occurred.

  Musgrave had clearly been thrown off stride by the Parson’s shocking claim, and his complaint—seconded by several landowners looking on—further disoriented the man.

  Nicholas continued to stand with Jane and Adams until the magistrate had said something about the ineptness of the dragoons assigned to him and grudgingly mumbled an apology for creating such an inopportune disturbance. Once Musgrave had withdrawn, Nicholas had also taken his leave.

  He could not remain beside her and pretend he was unaffected by the parson’s announcement. He knew that Jane was not at Ballyclough. He himself had gone there looking for her. What bothered him greatly, though, was that Adams seemed to know more than he did.

  Nicholas had left the house and was standing in the field beneath the paddock wall, staring out into the blackn
ess covering the valley, when his mother had caught up to him. Behind him, the stables were bustling with activity as carriages continued to be sent up for guests who’d had their fill of food, drink, dancing…with a bit of scandal thrown in.

  “Well, this is a party no one will soon forget,” she said. “Everyone is gobbling down the supper our hostess prepared and is heading for the hills. And to think that in London one would have no chance of pushing anyone out the door. The wolves would be waiting around, hoping for a bloody finish!”

  “There may be blood, yet.”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” she replied. “Parson Adams and Sir Thomas have locked themselves away in our host’s study. But I am quite uneasy about any solution that those two might come up with.”

  Nicholas said nothing, and Alexandra waited a moment or two before pressing him.

  “Jane needs you, Nick. She is trying to be as brave as she can, but I know she will fall apart if you do not go back to her soon.”

  “Henry Adams has been doing an excellent job helping her. I would hate to interfere.”

  “You cannot mean what you are saying.” She touched him on the arm. “Nothing that Musgrave said to her, no look of severity from anyone in attendance, upset her as much as when you walked out of that room. It is as plain as those stars in this sky. She needs you, Nicholas. You.”

  “And tell me. Did she say that? Did she send you after me?”

  “Jane would have if she thought it at all possible. But how could she?” Alexandra stepped in front of him. “Every movement she makes, every word she says, is being carefully scrutinized by a dozen of people at any given moment. Those who have not left yet are watching her closely, waiting for something noteworthy to carry to the club, or the card party, or whatever it is they do out here to socialize. She is bearing it well, for the moment, but I do not know for how long.”